


This is a bloody mess

by idioticfangirl



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Drunkenness, First Meetings, Fluff, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Pepper is Badass, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 21:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6346663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idioticfangirl/pseuds/idioticfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, has no need to go in laundromats.  So it must be fate when, the one time that he does, he encounters Steve Rogers, a scrawny man with a habit of getting into fights, and things can only go down from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is a bloody mess

So, some paparazzi had got a bit excited at the prospect of taking a never-before-seen shot of Tony Stark, at noon, drinking a coffee on his way to avoiding a meeting, and in the process the coffee that took the barista an entire minute to prepare (with extra cream because he was a grown man, dammit, he could have extra sugar if he wanted) was now all over him.

On the bright side, Tony now had an airtight excuse for missing the meeting, and maybe the paps would ignore him for a short while in some futile attempt to apologise for what they had done to his beautiful coffee - who cared about the suit, it only cost a few hundred dollars, it was practically a rag. 

On the other hand, Tony was standing in a freezing laundromat in the middle of winter in only his underwear, hands covering his most private parts as he waited desperately for his clothes to dry so he could put them on, because that woman over there had to be at least 90 so what was she doing staring at him like that? Sure, she may be blind but she could sense his near-nakedness, he just knew it. And Pepper - oh, Pepper would be furious, she would break up with him for sure, he had to do something to apologise, strawberries? No, that wouldn't work, oh god...

And then Tony's attention was stolen by the bell indicating that someone was entering, and he hastened to ensure that his electric blue briefs covered his butt to give at least some semblance of dignity.

"I'm telling you, Buck," whoever had come in had a loud voice, quite high, and he sounded like an incensed four year old, "they had it coming!"

"Had what coming?" Deeper, more soothing, slightly exasperated. Tony instinctively preferred the other guy, whose response was covered up by an obnoxious ding! that meant his clothes were finally dry and he could be free of this freezer. 

As Tony busied himself pulling his crumpled suit out of the tiny dryer, he heard the old woman say, "Why does no-one around here know how to get rid of blood stains?"

Wait, the fuck? Blood? Without thinking, Tony's head swung up to stare unreservedly at the two men standing next to him. One was tall, with brown hair cut quite short and a jawline to die for, honestly. He was watching the other, who appeared to be about half of his height, struggle to pull off a once-white shirt that was stuck over his head, completely covered with a thick, red substance that could only be the blood that the woman had been talking about. 

"Buck? A little help here?" the voice was muffled by the t-shirt as the small man scrabbled in an undignified manner at the offending material, scratching and pulling until finally a red face and tousled blonde hair appeared from beneath it. Tony bit back a laugh because, really , an incensed four year old was a pretty apt description.

His laughter was cut almost as short as the man - he assumed it was a man and not a boy - next to him when said man turned an unattractive shade of white and slumped over, groaning, directly onto him.

"You alright there?" Tony cursed his brain, attempting to make it return to the matter in hand, that of the man half=passed out on his shoulder, rather than the fact that his hair smelled really nice and that his eyes were a stunning shade of blue and that he really wasn't sure whether he wanted to take this man to bed with him or just tuck him in to bed, and really where did that come from? Not that he was in any way insecure about his sexuality, taking the same devil-may-care attitude with that as every other issue, but still he was happy with Pepper, so this boy could just...

"Sorry about that," and the man was apologising, pulling himself back up, "got in a bit of a scrap back there, but they were asking for it, making fun of army veterans."

"They were...asking for it?" Tony raised an eyebrow, unable to help himself, "Not to sound cliché, but what happened to the other guys?"

The man went nearly as red as the t-shirt that 'Buck' was stuffing angrily into the dryer. "Well, I could have taken them on, but," he sighed, "Bucky over here rescued me."

"Just like every other time, Steve," Bucky called over his shoulder, "what are you gonna do if I can't get there in time? This was a close call, and what will your mum say if you get hurt?"

"I'm 23, Bucky, not 12," Steve huffed, as though this was a debate that they had often. Bucky sighed loudly, signalling the end of the conversation, and Tony realised suddenly that he was still only wearing his underwear, despite his clothes having been out for a few minutes now and cooling fast.

"Well," he hurriedly pulled on his rumpled suit, "it's been nice meeting you, Steve, Bucky," he nodded at them in turn, "but I really should be going, businesses to run and all that jazz. Try not to get in any more fights, wouldn't wanna ruin your pretty face." He left before anyone could react to his comment, rushing out into the busy street to apologise to Pepper, and hope that she forgave him quickly this time.

It did take a week, which he spent constantly apologising, buying gifts and sleeping in the spare bedroom, but she forgave him quicker than she had before, and they fell back into their usual routine of Tony fucking up and Pepper fixing it. Other than a few more trips to the laundromat than was strictly necessary, and a heart-attack moment when the news mentioned a man called Steve dead from a gang fight (black hair, though, and different face shape), Tony forget about Steve fairly quickly, for him.

 

 

The problem with a relationship in which one is always apologising, Tony reflected, was that in the end they would realise that you would never learn. Because there was no way, not a chance in hell, that Tony, with his drinking problems and sleeping problems and commitment problems, was good enough for Pepper, competent and beautiful and smart and flawless. Because he loved Pepper, but there came a point that he was either going to have to get better or get out, and that point was swiftly approaching. In an attempt to prove his worth, Tony made a last-ditch effort to save his relationship by (and how did he come up with this plan?) going to the gym.

It wasn't that he thought he was unfit, not at all, or that he though Pep was so shallow that she would ignore the problems in communication that they were having time and again. He had thought the problem over, again and again, and his logical mind saw one thing that he could fix. If Pepper thought he wasn't putting enough effort into this relationship, and wouldn't let him throw money at the problem until it went away (in truth, that would make her look like a stripper), then he would show her how much effort he was putting into it. So he made a membership at Fury's gym, and went straight away.

 

 

The first thing that he saw at the gym was a man with biceps at least the size of Tony's head, quite happily chatting away with someone as he did chin-ups on a bar that Tony didn't even think he could reach, majestic blond hair toppling down his bare back. Tony gulped, looking down at his own ratty t-shirt and joggers, and thought maybe he could start on the running machines on the other side of the room. Those, however, seemed to be the turf of a young man with white hair, on such a fast speed that his legs were a blur, so Tony abandoned those, too.

He turned, unused to being in a place where he knew he really shouldn't pick a fight, and stopped. And stared. The person that the man doing chin-ups had been talking to, the one glistening with sweat as he swiped at the punching bags, again and again, swinging them back so fast that Tony feared they would break...was that Steve?

His face was that of Steve's, with large blue eyes and short blond hair, and there was something in the determined set of his jaw that made Tony instinctively flash back to the short man he had met months ago, but the rest of him? He was tall now, and had the body of a Greek god that made even Tony feel self-conscious.

"Hey, it's you!" While Tony gaped, He-who-must-not-be-Steve was grinning at him, eyes twinkling as he paused in his punching, barely panting. 

"Uh..." smooth, Tony thought to himself.

"Oh," the guy's face fell, "you don't remember me. Um, I'm Steve, we met for like a minute at the laundromat about four months ago, I-"

"Steve!" Tony plastered a grin on his face, "Of course I remember you! You were the one covered in blood, right?" The man doing chin-ups looked concerned, but Steve waved a hand at him.

"Don't worry, Thor, it's all in the past. Yeah, I got in a few scraps, but now," he blushed slightly, cheeks reddening, "I had a growth spurt?"

"A growth spurt?" Tony exploded, "You look like you got turned into a superhero, for fucks sake!"

The blush deepened, and spread further down Steve's naked chest. "Well, yeah, the doctors found some kind of miracle cure for my asthma and apparently it strengthened all of my cells?" He scratched the back of his head, "Or, or something, I didn't really understand what they were saying to be honest, but like Bucky said, it has to be good, so..."

"How is Bucky?" desperate to keep the conversation alive, if only to salivate over Steve, Tony clutched at the small straws given to him, regretting it as Steve's face fell.

"He got transferred to Europe. Met a girl there, I think. He joined the army, and they had a post out there, so he went. I was thinking of joining myself, to be honest, now that I can." 

Tony remembered how he had felt when Rhodey had said that he was being transferred, not all the way to Europe, but far enough that he wasn't around every day like before. The incredible loneliness had almost driven him to sign up, but in the end he just wasn't cut out for that, and he had Pepper, besides. But Steve...what had Bucky been to Steve?

"Don't do that," he flung a friendly arm around Steve's shoulders, not stopping to wonder when they had got that close, "who'll be my personal trainer then?"

"I - don't even know your name?"

"Tony Stark. I run a company, Stark Industries, you may have heard of it?"

"Holy shit!" the voice came from above Tony, and he jumped violently. "Stark Industries? Like, the tech company?" Tony craned his neck up to see a head popping out of a vent, and noted that Steve didn't look in the least surprised, more exasperated to be honest.

"That's me."

The head disappeared back in the vent, followed by a scuffling sound, and a man leapt feet-first through the hole. "Clint Barton," he held out a hand, but when Tony went to shake it retracted it to his nose, wiggling the fingers and sticking out his tongue. "It's an honour."

"Charmed," Tony muttered, but he couldn't help but like the guy.

"Steve," Clint half-turned, "you never told me you'd made friends with The Tony Stark?"

"I never knew," Steve looked confused, "he never said"

"Yeah, sorry, had to run. Company to run, girlfriend to grovel at, the whole shebang."

"Yikes," Clint winced, "girlfriend issues."

Tony snorted dismissively. "Nothing I can't handle, don't you worry your pretty little head about it. Now," he looked around, heart sinking, "how do I do this without killing myself?"

 

Sore but pleased, Tony staggered back to his place, calling out for Pepper almost before the door had closed. "I'm home!" Pepper strutted down the stairs, looking scarily competent in heels that could probably kill someone - he wouldn't put it past her - and tutted at the sight of him covered in sweat.

"I hope no-one got a picture of you like this?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, "because you've certainly looked better."

"But I'm not drunk," Tony grinned, knowing even as he did so that he looked like a puppy trying to please its owner, "so I've looked worse!"

Pepper smiled, properly smiled at him, and nodded. "That is true," she commented, looking like she was going to say something else before her phone rang and she was in PA mode again, nodding and saying 'yes' in a way that meant definitely not and Tony watched her,waiting for her to hang up, but before she did he had to go to a meeting and he wondered, all the way through, what she might have said.

 

The next time he went to the gym, Steve and Clint were there again, with Thor and another guy - Sam - and they invited him out for drinks. Tony wanted to say no, but Steve's puppy dog eyes and Clint's promise that they would get absolutely fucked swayed him, so he called Pepper that he was going out with friends and went. She seemed okay with it, pleased even, and Tony wondered how long it had been since he had gone out with someone that wasn't her.

He liked the group, talking science with Bruce, sports with Clint, Sam, Thor and Steve, and avoiding conversation with Natasha unless pressed into it, in which case he told her that she was terrifying and left while she played with her knife. He even brought Pepper along a few times, when she wasn't working, and she fit in so well that it was like they were all made to be friends, or some corny shit, although he didn't like how well her and Natasha got on, knowing that if the two of them ever put their minds to it they could rule the world.

And things with Pepper, touch wood, were going okay. They spent time together, going out to dinner or the movies, and Tony was happy. If only he could ignore the look that she got on her face when she thought he couldn't see, the one that said 'this may be going well but not well enough', pitying and sad and nostalgic for something that they still had. Tony had fucked up enough relationships to know that this was never, ever a face you wanted to see. It didn't end well.

In typical Tony Stark fashion, the obvious answer to this was a highly impulsive decision, egged on by Clint and a hell of a lot of alcohol. So he arranged a date with Pepper for the next day, met up with Clint and got hilariously drunk.

 

An hour late, he stumbled to the restaurant he had rented out for the special day. Pepper was sitting at her favourite table, tapping her foot as she alternated between glaring expectantly at the phone and the door.

"You're late," she pointed out, not even angry anymore, just resigned to the fact.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Tony groaned, shading his eyes from the light, "I -"

"Got drunk?" Pepper sighed, indicating for him to take a chair, and then the waiter came over and Tony was too busy worrying about what he was about to do to think about how angry she might be.

"So, Tony," she began, and that was not a good tone, not at all. "We need to talk."

"We are!" he babbled, "Talking, I mean, we talk all the time, I don't stop talking, you know that."

"About us."

"About how great we're doing? Because we are doing great, honestly, I can't believe how great we're doing."

"I want to break up."

Well. Shit.

"Wait, wait!" he held up a hand, standing up so fast that he toppled over, managing to gracelessly land on one knee so that he could at least pretend he had meant to do that.

"Um. Virginia Potts, Pepper, Pep. I know that I'm a lot to handle, but - will you do the honour of becoming my wife?" He coughed. "Do me the honour, sorry, not you."

Pepper, who had managed to keep her look of steely resolve as she let Tony down, sighed, gazing down at him pityingly. "I love you, Tony, I really do."

"And I love you too! So what's the problem, let's get married!"

"Tony, no." And his world crashed around him, almost falling to the floor as he stood back up, no point being on one knee if this wasn't going to happen, what had he done wrong? Well, he could think of many things, but he'd done them all before and she hadn't left him then! He opened his mouth, but she carried on. "Like I said, I love you, but this isn't going to work. I think we've gone as far as we can with this."

"But why? I can be better -"

"It's not about being 'better' it's about being good for each other. And Tony, we're not. We just don't,"she waved her hands between them, "fit. And I was hoping that I could do this without hurting you, but I'm sorry, I can't marry you. I, um, guess it would be impractical to carry on working for you now."

"What, no, Pep!" he stopped her standing up. "You can still work for me, everyone knows SI would crash and burn without you! Please," he begged, "don't leave me completely. I can deal with just friends, it will work." Still half-risen, she considered it, nodded, and straightened up.

"Thank you for understanding," she whispered as she walked out. The waiter came over with their wine, glancing between the two of them, but Tony just handed him a wad of cash and left too, fingers thumbing the keys of his phone without even thinking about it as he waited for the news to sink in.

 

"She left me," he announced, bursting into the bar with a strange, manic expression on his face. "She left me!" The group that Steve had hastily assembled as soon as he got the text 'I need a drink' turned to face him, even the bartender pausing in his mixing to wince in a way that meant he had been there before.

"What happened?" Clint asked, and Tony didn't really want to tell him, wanted to get drunk and forget that it had ever happened, but they were all looking at him expectantly, so he launched into the story. They were good listeners, getting in just the right amount of 'oh Tony' that showed that they were listening and cared without sounding fake, but it didn't make him feel any better. The only thing that did was the alcohol that seemed to keep on coming in a never-ending stream until Tony didn't even know why he had ever been sad.

 

When Tony woke up, he was in a strange bed in a strange room with a strange smell wafting up to him. He groaned, a hangover forming on top of the hangover he had had yesterday, because drinking through a hangover is never a good idea, and wondered idly if he had been kidnapped. Not that he would really have minded, after the day he'd had he would almost welcome a chance to relax and wait to be rescued or paid for or whatever, but the bed was too comfortable for him to be a hostage. A crazed fangirl perhaps? 

"Morning, sleeping beauty," the voice was soft, and instantly put Tony at ease. He smiled up without thinking, taking in the sight of Steve standing next to him in pyjamas that could have belonged to his grandad, holding a tray with bacon, eggs and orange juice.

"It's meant to be good for a hangover," he continued in the same soft voice that miraculously didn't hurt Tony's head, "so I thought..."

"Thanks," Tony shoved a forkful into his mouth, chewing. "How did I get here?" he asked when he'd swallowed. "These are good, by the way."

"I wasn't going to let you go home like that. You couldn't even walk! I carried you in," he answered Tony's unspoken question without meeting his eyes, "and Thor helped. This is Sam's bed, but he stayed with Wanda. Pietro...was less than pleased." Tony winced, more from fear of Pietro's wrath than anything else, but when Steve mistook it as pain and began rubbing soothing circles in his scalp, Tony didn't correct him.

"So," Steve asked when Tony was done eating, "what do you normally do after a break-up?"

"Get drunk," Tony shrugged, "work without sleeping for a week. Live on coffee. The usual." Steve looked spectacularly disapproving, and shook his head.

"Not this time," he announced, picking up the tray and carrying it downstairs, Tony trailing after him. "This time you do it the healthy way."

Tony snorted. "You can't stop me," he replied, only half kidding.

"You're staying with me," Steve announced without even turning around. "For at least a week, maybe more. You're gonna look after yourself, Tony, or I'm gonna do it for you."

"I'm not a child, and you're not my mother," Tony complained, throwing his head back dramatically, but he was laughing as he did so and Steve could tell that he was kidding. 

"I got that, Tony," he replied, and what was it about breakups that made everyone think they could go all soft on you? "But it's important that you look after yourself."

"I'm still here, aren't I? I've had loads of breakups before, and -"

"And how many were you planning to propose to?"

"Well, just the one," Tony conceded the point. Steve looked like he was going to press further, so he flopped dramatically onto the counter and announced, "My head hurts!" Steve's disappointed frown twisted slightly, and he rummaged in a cupboard for a while, pulling out some painkillers. 

"These are Sam's, they don't work on me, but you can have some. Through there," he waved his hand at a door, "is the sitting room, we have a TV and stuff, or you can go back to sleep." Tony downed the pills and traipsed back up to bed, asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

 

True to his word, Steve stayed close to Tony for an entire week, even going so far as to force him to take some time off work ("it's not like you do much anyway, Tony, and we all know it!") to give him time to calm down. 

The first day, Tony watched shitty rom-coms on the tiny TV in Sam's room, switching to a prerecorded version of The Chase whenever Steve walked in to check on him. Steve was unimpressed, but could do nothing more than force some food and water into him and let him mope.

The second day, Tony completely rewired Sam's TV and sound system, cackling manically when it electrocuted him occasionally, and only stopping when he set the bed on fire, albeit only a small one, causing Steve to rush into a panic and nearly send him to ER until Tony promised that he wasn't hurt, and that he would stop.

On the third day, Clint, Natasha and Thor turned up to drag Tony to a bar. Sure, he wasted the entire day getting wasted, and he may have cried for most of it and asked everyone in there what he was meant to do now, but it was a damn sight better than he had expected to be, and when Steve drove him home (having stayed sober the entire time), he didn't even care that Tony threw up in his car. Twice.

On the fourth day, as a ploy to get him out of trouble, Steve took Tony to an art museum. Tony remembered it, having been dragged there by Pepper, and distinctly remembered spending the entire time in the shop making fun of people that actually enjoyed these hellish places, and complaining about his intense boredom until Pepper was embarrassed by his childish actions and took him home. To his utmost surprise, it seemed almost a different place with Steve there, alternating between extreme fascination and an almost fanboy-ish behaviour over his favourite painters to mocking the art with a wit that Tony was proud of. When they left, he realised that he'd hardly thought of Pepper the entire time, and, even better, he'd enjoyed it.

On the fifth day, Steve took Tony to the cinema to see the new Batman film that everyone was talking about, Batman Vs Superman. They both got incredibly into it, whispering to each other about how that was in no way what a real superhero should be doing, fighting against someone who was on the same side as them for stupid political reasons, and throwing popcorn at each other. When the film finished, Tony was going to drag Steve to one of the fancy restaurants that he and Pepper had frequented, but they ended up grabbing hot dogs from a street vendor, way too greasy with burnt ends and not enough ketchup, and it was better than all of the evenings with Pepper put together.

On the sixth day Rhodey called, his voice a mixture of anger and anxiety as he demanded Tony tell him if he was okay, and why hadn't he called as soon as Pepper left him, damn it, he would have left his job in an instant. In a calm voice, from where he was in Sam's room with Steve covered in paint as they attempted to fix the damage that he had done with his sudden fit of DIY earlier in the week, Tony assured Rhodey that he was alright, honestly.

The next day Rhodey flew down and was surprised to find Tony was currently staying in a house belonging to two other men that Rhodey had never even heard mentioned. By this point, Pietro had kicked Sam out so Steve was camping on the sofa to make room for Tony, who had tried to point out that he had enough room at his house to take all of them, but the two of them wouldn't have it. Rhodey took Tony out for drinks, promising Steve that he would take care of him, but to his surprise Tony only spoke about Pepper for 45 minutes, and the rest of the time waxed lyrical about Steve. When Rhodey deposited Tony back at Steve's, he watched the way that Steve carefully checked he was okay before half-carrying him to his bed, and smiled his secret smile that meant everything was going to be okay.

 

After that week, Tony was deemed functional enough to be allowed back to his own house, pretending to be irritated at being coddled for a week but also smiling wider than he felt like he had in a long time. It was boring though, without Pepper, even when he retreated to play with his robots that had been neglected for a week, and before too long he found himself calling the rest of the squad, asking them if they wanted to come over for a movie night. Going to sleep in some kind of mad puppy pile of all of his new friends, Tony wondered if he had ever been this happy, and what he had to do to stay that way. He didn't think about it long, not even doing the typical Tony Stark action of wondering how he was going to fuck it up this time, instead flopping his head back onto Steve's chest as a pillow and letting sleep overcome him.

 

By now Tony was so integrated in Steve's circle of misfits that he had forgotten he had ever been alone, that there were some people he didn't know. Until, that is, Steve rushed up to the group that were gathered in a club and yelled over the music, waving a letter, "Bucky's coming back!"

"When?" Clint asked, at the exact same time as Natasha said, "Why?" and Tony said, "Who?"

"Bucky!" Steve turned to Tony, a wide grin threatening to split open his face, "You remember, from the laundromat?" Tony did remember, flashing back to the easy way those two had known each other, but swallowed his concerns in the face of Steve's glee.

"How long for?" he grinned, flashing a patented Stark smile, "He'd better remember me."

Steve checked the letter. "A few months," he beamed, before his face fell, "he was injured in action, not badly enough to leave, but he's being sent here for recuperation." He visibly shook himself, letting go of the sadness he felt when he saw that his lifelong friend had been injured, "I can't wait to see him!"

"It's okay," Bruce murmured, leaning over to Tony the second that Steve had gone to get celebratory drinks and Tony had let his guard fall, "they're just friends, I'm sure of it."

"What?" Tony sputtered, pulling away slightly, "Why would that matter to me it's not like I'm into Steve or anything!"

"Of course," Clint raised an eyebrow, "of course." Five minutes later, when Steve came back, Tony was still gaping as he tried to think of an adequate response and failed miserably.

"What's wrong?" Steve seemed concerned at Tony's slack face, so he quickly pulled himself together.

"I hope Bucky likes me, that's all," he half-lied.

"He's going to love you," Steve said seriously, "trust me."

 

Steve was wrong. 

The second that Bucky came, things started going downhill. Seeing the way the two of them clicked, the easy way that they fit together with their sentences combining to complete each other's stories, and especially the way that being with Bucky seemed to bring Steve to light like no-one else could, it made Tony's blood boil. There was a part of him, hidden beneath snark and humour and bad life choices, that snarled at anyone who came near what was his, that growled "mine" whenever anyone, especially Bucky, came near Steve. And sure, Steve could look after himself, probably better than Tony could with that body, but it still throbbed in his veins whenever he saw the two of them together.

The way that Tony saw to deal with this was, predictably, terrible. Somewhere in his brain, he felt the need to mark his territory, to show Bucky that just because he was about half his size he would still fight him, for Steve.

So he did. He flung his arms around Steve all the time, leaning in close to explain something or lounging on him during movie nights, doing whatever he could to proclaim to the world that - hey, I like this guy, and if I ever get up the nerve to ask him out, I will, so could you please back off?

The 'only' problem with that was Bucky's reaction. At first, he had seemed surprisingly okay with the whole thing, winking at Steve whenever Tony did something particularly outlandish and raising a mocking eyebrow at the way Steve's cheeks would redden. However, over time, he became more and more annoyed with the whole thing, grunting dangerously in Tony's general direction whenever he dared to get what Bucky deemed as too close to Steve.

"Stop that," he growled once at Tony as they crossed paths in a doorway, "it's cruel and he doesn't like it." He ignored Tony's attempts to question what the fuck he meant, shoving past him and back into Steve's living room.

 

And so it was that Tony ended up drinking alone in a bar with Sam, Bucky and Steve too busy playing pool to notice what they were talking about.

"He doesn't like it," Tony slurred, because he could hold his alcohol but this his - what, 6th drink? "There's no point."

"I'm sure that's not..." Sam trailed off, wondering how he could comfort Tony when Bucky had so obviously shut him down on Steve's behalf. 

"Not what? Not what he meant? Clearly Steve feels so uncomfortable about it that he's resorted to telling Bucky to get me to stop, or did he mean something else when he said he doesn't like it so stop?"

"You're over-thinking it," Sam replied, but it was clear in his voice that he didn't believe anything that he was saying.

"What's the point," Tony groaned, his head in his hands as he fully exploited his tendency to be dramatic. "It's no fun anymore."

From where he was ordering a drink behind him, Bucky glared daggers at Tony's head.

 

"Ow ow ouch, I'm never drinking again!" Tony promised the empty night sky, leaning heavily on the doorframe as he half hung out into the clear night sky, getting some air after getting absolutely smashed. It was an empty promise, as he knew from experience, but it made him feel better as he stumbled the walk home.

"No, you're not," and there was a voice behind him, and there was an alley behind him, and then the only thing behind him was a wall and there was someone tall, dark and scary in front of him, and his mind instinctively swept for a mistake but he was so inebriated, and everything was just too blurry to stop as the man grabbed his head and shoved it back, hard. He winced as it made connection with the wall of the dark alley.

"W - what's going on?" he played the scared, innocent drunk card.

"You want to break his heart?" Tony recognised that voice, something tugging at the depths of his brain, if only he could reach it. "You want to break his heart?"

"Hey, man," god he sounded like a stoner, "the only one with a broken heart 'round here is me. Me, me, always me."

The man that Tony definitely recognised pulled him forwards slightly, only to thump him back against the wall. "Because your girl left you, right? You fucked up and your girl left you and you're taking it out on Steve?"

Tony peered up from beneath his eyelashes. "Bucky?"

"I heard what you said."

"Bucky?"

"I heard what you said!"

"What did I say? I was drunk, I'm not -"

"You're going to stop mock-flirting with him because "it's not fun anymore"?"

"What?"

"You dick!" 

"I'm too drunk for this."

"He really fucking liked you, and you've broken his heart and I have to be there to pick up the pieces!"

"He...liked me? Past tense?"

In response, Bucky raised a fist and landed a solid punch on Tony's jaw. He felt, even through the haze of alcohol, his lip split, licking beads of blood from the new wound as he attempted to raise his hands to defend himself, watching as though behind a veil as they failed to stay completely straight.

Before he could think of anything smart to say that would probably get him punched hard enough to knock out a few teeth, a voice that Tony would recognise even in a state of complete drunken stupor came from behind him. "Bucky, no!"

"Steeeeeeeb," Tony sang, holding his arms out to his saviour, "my hero!"

"Tony," Steve said curtly, one hand protectively over his body so that he could easily be pushed away from Bucky behind Steve's more muscular body, "are you okay?"

"Juss my lip, Stebe, nothing to worry about," Tony highly doubted that his slurred speech would in any way abate Steve's fears for him.

"Bucky," Steve waved a hand in his general direction, and for the first time Tony truly appreciated that despite his gentleness, Steve could be fucking scary, "I'll talk to you later. I need to get Tony cleaned up."

"He's not a child, Steve, and -"

"I'll will talk to you. Later. Now go," Steve ordered, and Bucky went.

"What do you mean cleaned up, I am clean!" Tony whined. Steve sighed.

"Your shirt has blood on it and there's no way I'm leaving that to dry into it, it looks expensive as hell. Know any laundromats open 24 hours?" he seemed to be purposefully avoiding Tony's gaze, as though the drunk man was capable of holding eye contact in this state.

Tony smirked, feeling it spread across his face. "I know one," he practically purred.

 

In the time it took Steve to half-drag, half-carry Tony to the laundromat, he had sobered up enough to reflect on what had occurred, and wonder what the fuck had sparked any of it. Not enough, however, that when he was standing shivering and shirtless in the laundromat where he had first met Steve he could stop himself from blurting out, "So, Bucky said you liked me."

"Of course I like you, Tony, you're one of my best friends." After a beat of awkward silence, Steve pulled off his sweater and shoved it at Tony. "I'm getting cold just watching you," he announced, before softening slightly and adding, "you're going to be hungover enough tomorrow without being ill too."

"Yeah, but -" Tony paused as he shrugged into the overly-large hoodie, "y'know, like like me."

"What is this," the corner of Steve's lip twitched, "preschool?"

"Well, do you?"

"Of course I do, Tony, how could I not? I tried not to, when you were with Pepper, and that I had to leave off because you were so down, and then Bucky came and he kept telling me that you didn't mean it, that you just flirt with anything, and," he shrugged, "I promised I wouldn't let it affect our friendship, but I guess it must have done."

"And thank God it did," Tony announced, flinging his hands out flamboyantly and nearly knocking himself off balance, "or who knows how long it would take for us to get our heads out of our arses and into each other's mouths, if you know what I mean."

"Tonyyyyyy," Steve groaned, but he was laughing even as he admonished the blatant sex joke.

"You love me," Tony winked.

"Luckily for you, I do," Steve sighed, and they leaned in for a kiss. It was awkward, all height differences and accidental teeth and Tony put your tongue away, and it was perfect.

"I like this laundromat," Tony patted one of the washing machines affectionately, "all of the good things happen in this laundromat. When I propose to you, it's going to be in this laundromat."

"Tony!" Steve had gone bright red, "You're drunk, just," he pulled the shirt haphazardly out of the dryer, "let's go home."

Tony hung off his arm. "Our home?"

"Yes, Tony," and there was no way Steve could hide the massive grin on his face, "our home."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not too good at writing long fics so I apologise for this but I'm getting there I hope. Thanks!


End file.
